


Undercover

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Community: 100_tales, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Major General Jack O'Neill arrived at Senator Johnson's New Year's Eve party with a leggy blonde on his arm, and no one paid them any attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "100_tales" prompt #030 "new year"

Major General Jack O'Neill arrived at Senator Johnson's New Year's Eve party with a leggy blonde on his arm, and no one paid them any attention.

Which was actually a good thing, what with this being an undercover operation. But he couldn't help feeling some irritation on his date's behalf.

She pulled a little closer to him, so that the back of his hand brushed the slinky fabric of her gown, catching a sliver of the smooth skin exposed by the slit up her thigh. Her hair, mostly up but with a few tendrils loose, brushed his cheek as she leaned up to whisper in his ear...

"I don't sense any Goa'uld here."

"Huh?" Jack blinked, and Sam surreptitiously pinched him.

Right. Undercover mission. Looking for a Trust operative who, rumor had it, was currently host to a minor but nasty Goa'uld. _Not_ feeling up a certain gorgeous colonel. At least, not yet.

Jack studiously did not look at her cleavage, and made a quick scan of the room, not finding anyone immediately suspicious. "The whole building, Carter," he whispered, "or just here?"

Sam bit her lip. "Maybe a dozen yards?" she hedged. "It doesn't exactly work like radar."

"I know," said Jack, and squeezed her arm. "Now, I never thought I'd say this, Carter, but we'd better mingle."

The smile she gave him was genuine, and brightened when he brushed a kiss to her knuckles before tucking her hand into his elbow and leading them into the crowd.

Sam let him do most of the talking, giggling for effect when Jack intentionally left a pause before introducing her as his 'escort'. She giggled more in the appropriate places— some genuine, if Jack's unique humor went over a particularly annoying politician's head.

"Carter," he muttered, whining and not denying it, as they narrowly escaped from an overly persistent lobbyist of some kind. " _Please_ tell me you found him."

She ran her fingers over the lapel of his jacket, smoothing out wrinkles, and shook her head. "Sorry, sir."

Soft music started, from the string quartet in the corner, and Jack held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

He could practically see the tactical analysis running through her mind— dancing would allow them to move unobtrusively through the room, close enough that Sam should be able to sense a Goa'uld but not requiring them to talk to anybody.

"Of course," she replied, her smile bright again as she took his hand and he slid his other around her waist.

The excuse to touch her was, naturally, a fantastic bonus and clearly one of which she approved.

Sam gave another giggle and leaned her head against his shoulder. Jack didn't know if it was so she could more easily sense a possible Goa'uld without any misleading visual clues, or because she was just tired of her 'dumb blonde' routine. Possibly, it was both.

"I'm sorry about all this, Carter," he murmured.

He meant from the beginning, when he'd come to her and said 'I've got an assignment for you, and you're not going to like it'. He didn't like it, either, but then again, he wasn't the one in the slinky dress. He should have accepted the Black Ops officer they were going to assign him, but he'd had a moment of weakness, and Sam had brought up the fact that she could probably sense the naquadah in a Goa'uld host, which he hadn't even _considered_.

She tilted her head to look at him— she was already tall, and her heels put them nearly eye-to-eye.

"I could have refused this assignment, Jack," she said, softly. She trailed one hand over the service ribbons on his uniform, fingers pausing on the ones they shared. "But you needed someone you could trust to watch your six. And it just might be that I didn't really want to think about you dancing with another woman."

He grinned. "I didn't want to think about it, either."

"Good." Sam grinned back, then froze. "Break left," she hissed.

Jack moved without thinking, as he'd done a thousand times in the field, spinning left as Sam went right. She had the man down before Jack could see him properly, a flash of Air Force uniform hitting the floor. Two more men, both in civilian suits, came next— Jack hit one with an elbow to the nose and downed the second with a knee to the solar plexus a full thirty seconds before the senator's security arrived. They found Sam covering all three men with the gun she'd seemingly pulled from nowhere.

"General?" asked one, uncertainly.

"Don't worry, boys," said Jack. "Colonel Carter has it under control."

Sam flashed the security men a smile that promised death and destruction to all who crossed her, and which Jack thought was one of the hottest things in several galaxies.

"He's not... infected, sir," said Sam, and it took him a moment to realize she meant the man was not a Goa'uld.

"Carter?"

"His uniform, sir," she replied. "That one service ribbon? Only SG teams three, twelve and fifteen should have those."

Sure enough, she was right. "Nice spotting, colonel," said Jack.

She grinned and slid the gun back into a holster on her thigh, just as the MPs showed up and took over.

"So," said Sam, taking his arm. "I'm ready to get out of this dress."

Jack grinned. "I'll help."

THE END


End file.
